This week's new release pile reveals a less bombastic Toby Keith. Meanwhile, rap veteran LL Cool J demonstrates why the ladies still love him. Plus, Daniel Powter proves he's capable of having some good days too.

Country:

Toby Keith, White Trash with Money (* * * ½ out of four) Those who know Keith only through brash singles such as How Do You Like Me Now?! and Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue will have missed the dramatic country-pop he occasionally sang earlier. For them, much of White Trash with Money— after lead track Get Drunk and Be Somebody— will come as a revelation, particularly A Little Too Late, which sounds like a modern-day Gene Pitney record. On Can't Buy You Money, a string arrangement modeled after Ode to Billie Joe conveys the sense of the wolf scratching at a happy couple's door. Keith still boasts plenty of attitude — especially on the bawdy Runnin' Block— but the stylistic and emotional range of these songs makes White Trash his most complete album. —Brian Mansfield

Rap:

LL Cool J, Todd Smith (* * ½) After more than 20 years and a dozen albums, LL Cool J has evolved from a brash upstart to venerable Uncle L. Ladies love the charismatic and still-skilled rapper, and most of the album finds him loving them back as he alternates between club-banging anthems and sensual, smoothed-out grooves. With guests including J. Lo, Juelz Santana, Mary J. Blige, Lyfe Jennings and Jamie Foxx on just about every track, there is no shortage of star power. Sometimes, though, LL seems to be cruising rather than being challenged. Still, the energy never wanes, and the rapper delivers enough to guarantee that James Todd Smith won't be fading any time soon. —Steve Jones

R&B:

Van Hunt, On the Jungle Floor (* * *½) Few soul artists are as willing to unleash their inner freak as Hunt. The Grammy-nominated singer/songwriter avoids typical romantic poetics and comes at relationships with such lines as "I stink of teenage heat/Lay me down before I freeze," or "You know it feels good/Just the way pain should." Hunt plays drums, guitar and keyboards on the album, whose rhythms veer from throbbing funk workouts to pounding garage-rock anthems to cool jazzy grooves. —Jones

Pop/rock:

Daniel Powter (* * *) With his debut album, this Canadian singer/songwriter joins a growing list of artists, James Blunt and Lewis Taylor among them, who are putting the male troubadour back on the map by mixing elements of folk earnestness, rock drama and blue-eyed soul. The wistful Bad Day is already a rising hit, fueled by weekly exposure on American Idol. And Powter's keening vocals, catchy hooks and sinuous grooves evoke rhythmically savvy pop icons ranging from the Bee Gees to Elton John — who, come to think of it, has championed both Blunt and Taylor. Maybe — if he hasn't already — he should check this one out, too. —Elysa Gardner

The Vines, Vision Valley (* * *). After zooming to fame on the high-test punk of 2002's rave-worthy debut, Highly Evolved, Australia's answer to The Strokes seemed to be veering toward a career flameout as frontman Craig Nicholls' behavior grew increasingly erratic. He was finally diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome, a form of autism particularly unsuited for the rigors of rock stardom. Nicholls chose fight over flight, and the result is this 31-minute blast of grunge-bolstered garage-rock bliss. Less deliciously messy than Evolved and more melodic than 2004's Winning Days, Valley has plenty of punk-pop peaks, starting with Don't Listen to the Radio, a flippant, double-meaning spiel on toxic technology and Nicholls' need for retreat. The psychedelic title track, bubblegum pop of Candy Daze, country twang in Take Me Back and Pink Floyd trippiness in epic closer Spaceship show The Vines stalking fresh twists. —Edna Gundersen

Neko Case, Fox Confessor Brings the Flood (* * *) "The most tender place in my heart is for strangers," this New Pornographers member sings, and the characters in her dark fairy tale of an album are strange indeed — the "girl with the parking-lot eyes," the woman tormented by the memory of a lover drowned in motor oil, the maddened man who hums nursery rhymes to keep his hallucinations at bay. Like a collection of Edward Gorey illustrations come crawling to life, Case's songs are eerie, irresistible and strangely humorous, all at once. —Mansfield